The Demon and the Monster
by Lysi Nothuna
Summary: Some minds are more fractured than others... A dark three-part fic inspired by "The Demon" by Emily Jane White. Dramione if you squint. Rated T for gore and dar themes.
1. Chapter 1

The Demon and the Monster

By: Lysi Nothuna

Chapter 1

"_If there was a demon would you hold her?_

_And be a nurse by her side?_

_I'll take a corset of your words,_

_Tie them up high, and bind them"_

_-Emily Jane White "The Demon"_

Hermione Granger was not the goody-two-shoes that she used to be. She was no longer innocent; the war had made sure of that. She had fallen into darkness, all alone. The voices in her head made sure of that. Now she was a demon, trapped by her own fractured mind, the result of being an untreated schizophrenic and the horrors of war.

The voices had made her lock herself in an old Victorian manor in the middle of the English countryside, one that was very nearly about to fall apart. During her saner days, she would try her best to spruce it up a bit. She would light a candle here or there, dust a few bookshelves, and paint a few walls. But those days were few and far in between and she could not keep up with the quickly dissipating state of the house. If anyone from a health department were to know that someone was living there they would have foreclosed it a long time ago.

But those same voices made sure Hermione was very careful. They would make her stay away from windows and wouldn't let her go outside in the day. At night, they would make her blow out any candles and only then would she be allowed outside to get groceries and the like.

Money you ask? No one said how she got her groceries. Most of the time she would shoplift from unsuspecting customers at the 24 hour market. As they would be heading to their cars she would wait until the victim was busy loading the bags before she would grab a bag or two and quickly walk away. Sometimes she would use coupons and food stamps; other times she would grab bags that someone had left behind by accident, claiming to be a friend who was waiting in the car.

Most of the time she got away with it and came home with much needed goods. Occasionally, though, she would sometimes get nothing of use (which was VERY rarely), or she would never get the chance to lift somebody. She had never been caught. At least, not until now.

Her target was not very visible in the flickering parking lot light. He was walking stiffly and quickly away from the supermarket, bags of groceries in his hands. He occasionally looked over his shoulder, a paranoid look about him. This one is going to be a hard one.

_Wait until he reaches the street corner. The light is out there. Then knock him over. Grab what you can and scram,_ the voices whispered. She nodded her head in understanding. She stalked the man carefully until he neared the corner. There was a mess of bushes nearby and she hid herself behind them, waiting for his approach.

_NOW!_ The voices encouraged. She jumped from the bushes and knocked him over. The man scrambled on the sidewalk in shock as she grabbed a majority of his groceries and ran. She kept running until she reached the path that led up to her home, there she finally calmed down and walked the rest of the way.

_You messed up. Prepare yourself for your punishment, _one of the more evil voices told her. She stiffened. What had she done wrong? She jumped the man like they said and made sure she wasn't followed the whole way home. Sadly, the voices refused to answer.

Hermione entered the house and set the bags down. She took out the items that lay inside and noticed that her victim had fine taste. No ramen noodles, no generic brands. All were the best of its type. The man must have been pretty wealthy, especially with the falling economy.

After she was done counting and placing the groceries away he appeared. His dark hair fell in a forelock across his left eye. His eyes were a deep glowing red and dark tattoos spiraled across his neck, arms and the side of his face. He told her one day that she was to call him Alec, and so she did.

He was the meanest out of them all, and one of the few who could become visible and the only one who could touch her other than Sarah. He normally was the one in charge of discipline. If she ever messed up he would appear and make her pay. But it was an equal payment, nothing unfair, or so he says.

Like if she were to accidently leave a candle lit, he would burn her with one until it reached it went out on its own. Another time she left the door ajar so he slammed the door on her for each hour that the door had been left open.

This time Alec was holding a wicked knife. This confused Hermione, what did a knife have to do with groceries? There were no sharp objects in the bags that she had stolen. Perhaps there was one in the ones she didn't and they wanted her to grab it.

"Hello Hermione," his voice rumbled. It was a deceitful voice, one that gave you false promises, and filled you with lust. It also had an Italian lilt to it, something she had always found attractive in men. But she knew better than to fall for his tricks. He had hurt her too much for that.

"Alec," she spat.

"Now, now, don't be mean. You know that you deserve every punishment you receive," he reprimanded. He had a sly grin on his face.

"What did I do wrong this time?" Hermione asked a little more civil this time. It was no use to be cruel to him; it only resulted in worse punishment.

"You let yourself be seen. The person knew you. As we speak he is trying to find you. You should have never jumped the man in the first place," Alec responded.

"I knew the man? I think not. Besides, there was no light for him to see me, I made sure of it," Hermione defended herself. The voices sometimes listened to her, maybe she could bargain with Alec.

"At that exact moment a car had happened to drive by, the headlights illuminated you and your victim. He was able to see you, albeit briefly," he explained.

"So he saw me. Doesn't mean he will recognize me," Hermione shrugged. Even though her shell was hard, inside she was quaking in her boots. He had won, she had lost. What she said didn't matter now.

"You're right. He won't after I'm through," Alec grinned evilly. He advanced upon her with his elegant knife.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_If there was a beast would you hold him?_

_And be a doctor by his side?_

_He'll take the drugs that you've stolen,_

_You'll be drunk on electric wine._

_Oh this town you've never seen before,_

_There's always big guns at your door,_

_The sentiment of class is blood born."_

_-Emily Jane White "The Demon"_

Draco Malfoy did not like being jumped. Being jumped was no fun. It hurt, a lot. You also get things stolen from you, not very fun either. It was an even worse experience for him due to the person who did the jumping, if he saw her correctly. The car's headlights had shone on a perfect angle as he had fallen onto the concrete sidewalk and he was able to get a glimpse of her face.

It was the face of Hermione Granger. Or at least a very similar copy. The only difference was the state in which she was in. Her cheeks were gaunt; her eyes were sunken in and had a look of insanity in them, but not the diabolical craziness that had been in his Aunt Bella's. Her hair seemed dry and some chunks were even missing. In short, she looked very much like a rabid animal, a demon of sorts.

It scared him that someone who seemed so calm and collected both before and during the war was now a hideous mutation of their former self. It made him think that anyone could fall if she could, especially himself. He did not want to fall again. But what if he had never risen in the first place? He didn't feel any different than the way he felt when he was a Death Eater, mind numb and anger always on the verge of spiking. Then there was the need to be recognized as someone of importance, not someone to be ridiculed or hated. But he no longer wanted that as badly, as it was impossible. No one wanted a Malfoy, they were beasts.

_But sometimes being wanted and needed were two different things_, Draco thought as he watched Hermione run crazily down the street with his groceries until she rounded a corner and disappeared. And he could see that even though Hermione would most definitely not want him, she definitely needed him. And somewhere, deep down, he knew that he needed her too.

He decided to send a trailing charm after her. It was a unique one that he picked up from his late godfather. It made a beam of light invisible to everyone but the caster and connected the caster's wand with whatever the caster was looking for. All the caster had to do was follow the yellow brick road so to speak and voila, you have arrived at your destination.

The bluish light took off from his wand and zoomed towards its target. He started walking after it and eventually the light stopped at a large iron gate. Huh. The spell wasn't supposed to do that. Then again, if wards had been put up it could sever the connection at the point where the wards started. He had never been in the position where that had happened so he didn't really know.

Anyways, the point was that the area was warded and the gate was locked. On the brighter side, a pair of hedge cutters had been thrown into the overgrown rosebushes nearby, most likely by some careless worker a couple of years back. The bad news was that they were in the rose bushes. Draco contemplated going back to being the coward he was and ditching the whole idea, until he heard screaming. He jumped, startled, at the noise that sounded like a banshee.

It seemed to have been coming from the old Victorian mansion that lay on top of the hill a quarter mile past the gate. The place was rumored to be haunted, with people claiming to see the figure of a girl passing the windows occasionally during the day and seeing the occasional candle in a window at night. Then there were the screams that happened randomly that could be supposedly heard for miles. When Draco first heard the stories he assumed that the place was just the Muggle version of the Shrieking Shack. Now he knew that the ghost inside was real and very much alive. But by the sound of those screams, not for very much longer.

Five minutes and several scratches later Draco had broken the padlock with the shears and pushed the gate open. It opened surprisingly easy, as if used recently. Then again, it had been. The screams hadn't stopped since he first heard them and it caused his adrenaline to rush through his veins.

Using that to his advantage he took off up the hill and arrived in record time. Nothing had stopped him by the time he reached the broken porch and he had a feeling that no one would. He slowed down and gripped his wand tighter, remembering the warnings that his father and godfather had drilled into him before he started going to Death Eater meetings. It is in times of danger when your guard is always at its lowest.

He knew that sounded like an oxymoron, but he could see the logic in it. If your mind and body is focused on something, say danger, then it gives the true enemy the element of surprise. Hermione's screams meant that she was in pain, and he had a hunch that it wasn't self inflicted.

He slowly reached out and touched the front door, hoping that the metal doorknob wasn't rigged to shock him. It wasn't and he even more carefully opened the door. The screams had quieted by now, making him nervous. This meant that the enemy, whoever it was, would be more aware that he was there, if the enemy wasn't already. He stepped inside the old house and nearly broke his leg when he stepped in a hole in the floor. He pulled his foot out of the rotting wood and cursed silently before moving again.

Draco Malfoy reached the kitchen when he saw her on the floor. She was covered in blood and he could see bits of skin on the ground around her. Hermione was lying face first and Draco covered his mouth and nose with his shirt as he turned her over.

"Holy shit!" Draco blanched. Tattoos had been carved into her delicate skin, especially on her face. She would be scarred for good. The worst injury though was her eyes. They had been sewn shut but from what Draco could tell if he were to cut them open he would find only empty sockets. He touched her neck and found a weak pulse. She's alive, that's good, Draco thought. He did a quick cleaning spell to get rid of the blood and a healing spell to close the cuts. Some of the deeper wounds still bled, but not as bad as before.

Before he could move her he had to know if there was a place clean and stable enough in the godforsaken house to put her. So he left her unconscious in the kitchen as he cautiously explored.

Several times the floor gave out under him, so much that he didn't even bother to try and check out the upstairs in fear that he would fall to his death. Draco decided that the parlor couch (which seemed to date back to the early 1900's) was the cleanest and safest place to put her. He went back to the kitchen but found Hermione missing.

"Granger?" He asked. Suddenly he saw a frying pan go flying in his direction. He ducked and it missed him by inches.

"Go away!" she screeched. She was fumbling about blindly and was trying to find things to throw at him. "You're just going to make them come back!"

"Who, Granger? Who's going to come back?" Draco asked as he dodged a dirty plate. It made a hole in the dry rotted wall behind him.

She seemed to struggle to find the proper words. "Them!"

"Who? I can only help you if you tell me who," Draco pleaded. He hated seeing the Know-it-all in this state. He may hate her, but she didn't deserve any of this.

Again she struggled to find the right words. "Them! The voices!"

"Voices?"

She nodded. "They're everywhere. There are so many, it hurts to hear them. I used to be able to block them out. But after the war, after I was left alone, they came back. Louder. I can see them too. They look so nice. But they are really mean. They hurt. He did this to me," she explained.

Draco looked at her confusedly. Da fuq? Voices? Apparently she dealt with them for a long time, whatever the voices were. They could hurt too. Or they made her hurt herself, one or the other. "Alright, Granger. Who is this he?"

But she pressed her lips together and shook her head and refused to answer. "Come on Granger. I know I'm not the first guy you would spill your darkest secrets to, but right now you're just going to have to trust me. Just…trust me," he told her softly. He had absolutely no idea why he was saying these things. Two years ago he would have been making fun of her, calling her a demented mudblood that heard voices. Now he just wanted to help her. Be a nurse to her.

"Alec. His name is Alec. He hurts me. A lot. He did this to me," she said, pointing at her injuries.

Draco looked at her in shock. "He did? The voice did?"

She nodded. Streams of red poured from the tiny slit where her eyelids met. Draco was horrified at the sight of the bloody tears but kept his composure.

"Well he won't touch you again, okay? I'll find a way to get rid of the voices and heal your eyes, I promise. I'm here now," Draco promised.

She shook her head no again. "You can't. He hurt me because…because of you. Because you saw me. If he discovers that you are still talking to me…I know he's here! I don't care! I'm trying to get rid of him! Please….don't get Alec," she suddenly cried out. Fear was etched along her face and she was shivering violently.

Draco thought quickly and let his Slytherin instincts take over. "Granger? Listen, tell them that they have no control over you. Tell them that Alec is not allowed to come anymore or I will kill him. Tell them that you are better off alone," he whispered in her ear. She froze for a moment, as if deciding which she would rather face; an angry Slytherin or angry voices.

"No," she decided. "I won't do it. Draco please leave. I'm fine. You heard nothing, you saw nothing. I'm fine," she ranted, most likely repeating what the voices were telling her to do. Draco sighed in defeat. This wasn't going to be easy. If only his godfather was alive, maybe he'd know what to do. Wait a second; he may not be alive, but he could still talk.

"Fine Granger, I'm leaving, okay? But if you change your mind, I'll be there," Draco said in fake defeat. She fell for it and nodded. Draco backed away to the front door and left. He really hated leaving a blind, mentally unstable Hermione alone in that deathtrap but it seemed to be the best for now.

He went down the porch step and nearly broke his ankle again on one of the broken steps. Draco cursed again but kept walking away until he was away from the wards. Shooting one last glance at the old house he Apparated away to the empty Malfoy Manor.

00000

Draco paced in front of the fireplace, lost in thought. Should he? No. Could he? Yes. Would he? He had no bloody clue. Headmistress McGonagall would be fine with his presence, but the rest of the staff wouldn't, nor would most parents. He hated carrying his father's legacy, to the world he was a beast. They let him know of it too. Constantly people would attempt to vandalize his home or start new rumors about him. Draco could no longer care. He just repaired the windows, repainted the walls and never read the paper.

But Hogwarts held his only hope for finding out what was wrong with Granger and how to deal with it. So taking a handful of Floo Powder he threw it into the fireplace and stepped in, saying, "Headmistress's Office, Hogwarts."

Draco arrived to find the Headmistress busily working on paperwork. She had not noticed his entrance so he cleared his throat to catch her attention. McGonagall jumped and glared at the figure in the dim candlelight.

"Please don't do that again Mr. Malfoy. I'm quite sure I don't want a premature death by heart attack."

Draco allowed himself a smirk, "Sorry, Professor."

"Call me Minerva or at least Ms. McGonagall, Mr. Malfoy. I am no longer your teacher," she corrected. "Now what is you are here for? Not more trouble from the Ministry, I presume?"

Draco grimaced. The Ministry had done a very thorough inquiry on him after the War and they had just started to leave him alone. "Sorry to disappoint but not this time. In fact, I needed some advice from my godfather."

Professor McGonagall gave him a sad look. "You and I both know he is gone Mr. Malfoy. I'm going to be quite frank when I say this but you need to move on."

Draco blushed. He had made the mistake of asking for his godfather when the Ministry troubles first started. He had been in denial at the time and had completely removed the fact from his mind that Severus Snape was very much dead.

"I know Professor. But I didn't mean him literally."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I know that it is tradition for all Headmasters and Headmistresses to have a portrait, no matter the length or situation of their term," Draco stated.

She gave him a weary look. "We've been through this already, Mr. Malfoy. If he had had a portrait made we would have heard his voice grumbling to us about foolish Gryffindors by now. Frankly, I don't believe that he took his job seriously enough to make one. He never liked his time as Headmaster; he made that much clear to me and the rest of the staff."

"I know that Ms. McGonagall. But I think he did. If only for tradition. And I think I know where to find it," Draco told her eagerly.

"If you are thinking the Room of Requirement you have forgotten that it had been destroyed by your late acquaintance Mr. Crabbe."

"I remember that incident clearly and I wasn't thinking of there. Now may I have permission to explore the grounds?" Draco asked impatiently. Minerva must have been thinking that he was having a mad bout of grief as she kept trying to turn him down. If only she knew, she would let him in a jiffy.

She sighed. "Fine. Just stay away from the students and stay out of the dormitories unless you have proof it's there."

"Agreeable," he said curtly before excusing himself. He wandered through the familiar halls and kept an eye out for some of the years that were allowed to stay out later. They were the ones who would recognize him immediately. He made his way down to the dungeons and found himself standing in the old Potions classroom. It was the one that was never used since the early 1800s. His godfather had taken him down to the room before, and he told him that this is where he used to come to practice new spells and think when he was a student.

Now Draco had a feeling that this place had more personal value than that. As he wandered through the room slowly he kept looking at the corners of the room and in dark shadows for any sign of a frame. He would also knock on the odd desk or brick, hoping to hear the hollow sound of a secret cache.

Finally he found what he was looking for. It was an old cauldron, but nowhere near as old as the ancient and archaic tools that were in the room. He noticed that the lid was fastened securely on it and that the initials S.S. and L.E. were carved on to the side.

"Severus Snape and Lily Evans," he whispered. Harry had told him about his godfather's infatuation with his late mother. Draco believed the story only because it filled in the reason why his godfather had been so cold. Now he had even more proof.

Apparently the names were also the password as the lid loosened with an audible hiss. Draco lifted the metal top and sat it down on the desk and peered inside. In it lay the portrait. It wasn't as big as most of the portraits in the castle but big enough. There was also a journal and some other memorabilia that Draco took note to take home with him and sort through later.

But right now his thoughts were solely on the dormant portrait. It was late so Draco could only assume that Severus was sleeping. He gently pulled out the portrait, careful not to wake the irritable Potions Master.

Draco propped it against the cauldron and noticed that the portrait wasn't asleep, but still, as if painted by a Muggle. "He didn't," Draco breathed. If that man made it a Muggle portrait on purpose he was going to hunt the man down and kill him in the afterlife himself.

Then a thought struck him. What if he froze the painting to keep the painting from growing bored in the dark cauldron? The question would be what Draco would have to do to wake it. He started searching through the memorabilia and found his answer in a phrase that kept popping up. "Half-blood Prince," he told the portrait confidently. Immediately the painting's features softened and looked more lifelike. Slowly the portrait Snape blinked as if waking from a deep sleep.

"Wha-? Oh, Draco, it's you," Severus greeted stiffly.

"Hey," Draco said quietly. This was the first time he had spoken to his godfather since the final battle. It felt awkward speaking to a man that no longer lived. He wondered how Professor McGonagall did it every day with the portrait of Dumbledore.

"Speak up. I don't want to have to listen to little snippets. It's bad enough I've been dormant for how long?" Snape asked.

"Somewhere along three years."

"Three years. How long have I've been….gone?" Snape asked uncertainly, unsure if he wanted to know.

"Two. I would have found you sooner but things have prevented that," Draco answered.

"Voldemort hasn't won has he?"

Draco looked at the portrait in horror. "No! Potter defeated him. Not before the bastard got my parents though," Draco added sadly. He hated his father but he loathed being alone.

Severus' gaze softened, but only a little, "I'm sorry Draco. Though I must say good riddance when it comes to your father. I blame that man for the reason I went dark in the first place. I trust though that you have gotten over your grief and aren't here to just rant?"

"Yes sir. But that's not why I need you. In fact I need some advice," Draco said tentatively. Snape wasn't one that did advice unless it was on survival.

"About?" The portrait looked like it was suppressing a sneer.

"Granger." Was all Draco could bring himself to say at the moment.

"Please don't tell me you're infatuated with the Know-it-all," Severus groaned and but his head in his hands. He had his elbows propped up on the Headmaster's desk and his hair fell over his face.

"No, it's not that," Draco assured him. The portrait looked up at him, interested. "You're a Legilimens, right?" Draco asked quickly. Severus rolled his eyes.

"No. The other Severus is, but he's dead. Though that doesn't mean I don't know the technique. Why? You want to learn how Granger is so smart or something?" He sneered.

Draco looked insulted. "As if. I was just asking because that means you know a bit on the mind, right?" The portrait nodded.

"Good. Then maybe you can help me diagnose her," Draco said, relieved.

"Why? Has she finally cracked? I always thought she held too much stress on her shoulders. Especially with always being involved with those two dunderheads," Severus asked, now very intrigued. Draco nodded.

"I don't think it's from stress though. The symptoms don't match, especially if she was telling the truth when she claimed for how long she had been suffering," Draco pointed out.

"What symptoms and what do you mean by suffering?" This just kept getting better and better for the late Potions Master. He was a self-proclaimed master of the mind, though he never dared to brag about it. To see the student who seemed to be the mentally healthiest go mad was quite comical, and intriguing.

Draco described what he saw and heard as well as what Hermione told him. Snape's eyes widened in shock and he was revolted by what happened to Hermione's physical features.

"Well? Got any ideas? Cause I got none," Draco said sheepishly.

"It sounds similar to that of a student that I had that graduated about two years before you started going to Hogwarts. He too claimed to hear voices and see things that didn't exist. Eventually it took some Muggle research and a dip in his mind to reveal that he had the Muggle disease Schizophrenia, or something very similar to it. But never once did the voices ever attack him in such a way….Mental yes. Physical no," Snape mused.

"So you do know how to deal with it?" Draco asked eagerly.

"Not every case of schizophrenia is the same. But I do remember making a very complex potion for him that was supposed to make him deaf and mute to the voices. I believe that the potion was written in one of the free pages in my old Potions book," Snape told him.

"Where is it?" Draco asked excitedly. Finally progress. He was now one step closer to healing Granger and moving on in his life.

"I believe that Potter and Ginevra hid it in the Room of Requirement after Potter took possession of it," Snape mused darkly. He wasn't happy about that. It was his book; they should have just returned it to him. Great, Draco mused, now they just took three giant leaps back….

Draco refused to look at Snape when he said, "Ehrm, well, um, yeah, about that…" He rubbed the back of his head in nervousness.

"Oh spit it out Draco. This stuttering will get us nowhere."

"Um, well, Crabbe always had the tendency to not be able to control his wand well…" Draco continued sheepishly.

Severus moved his hands in a keep going gesture.

"He cast Fiendfyre on the Room of Requirement during the battle. If the book was there, it's in ashes,' Draco finished. He was thankful that Snape was 2D, otherwise he probably would've ran for his life. The portrait's face grew deathly pale in anger.

"WHAT?!" Snape roared. That book held precious secret spells and Potions that he only copied down on it. If what Draco was saying was true they would be lost forever, and forgotten. "Do you realize how valuable the book was? It held Potions and spells so dark that it would have locked me into Azkaban forever, but it also held some Potions and spells that would cure the incurable and fix the unfixable. All of that work is lost. Because of your git of a friend. I hope he paid for that!"

Draco looked down and said quietly, "He was never my friend, and he did pay for it, with his life. The Fiendfyre consumed him as well."

Snape crossed his arms and said, "An ironic death. How…suiting."

"Well what now? We just give up?" Draco changed the subject. Even though Crabbe had never really been his friend he had suffered a horrific PTSD episode from it after the war. It just recently had begun to fade.

"No. We remake it through trial and error. The real Snape had remembered the ingredients needed due to the amount of times he had made it. From there we can figure out what order they were added and how," the portrait explained.

"That's great! So what are they?" Draco asked excitedly, another four leaps forward. In no time they would be able to get Granger healed.

"Get a quill and parchment, this list is long. I'm surprised he remembered it all," Snape instructed. Draco obliged and the portrait of the late Potion's Master told him the ingredients list.

When Snape finished Draco glanced over his list and his brow furrowed. "Half of these are illegal. I remember my father getting them for you off of the black market."

Snape snorted, "Of course they are. Over half of those are used in all common poisons. But what most fail to recognize is that the most poisonous ingredients can also be the most helpful when mixed the right way. The Muggles caught on sooner than we did, that's why they use bacteria in penicillin."

"How the bloody hell am I supposed to find these then if they are illegal? I won't be able to get anything off the black market; my family name has been destroyed. No one would want to sell these things to someone as dishonored as myself," Draco complained.

"That is why you are going to have to steal them," Snape stated simply.

"I may be dishonored but I'm not that low!" Draco admonished.

"Then you are going to have to watch Granger tear herself apart, it's your choice."

Draco sat there in thought. He wanted to help her, but he was no thief. Then he remembered the rumors that Slughorn collected black market ingredients for cash. That man was a criminal. "And that means I can steal with the whole Robin Hood mindset going and I can still feel good about it!" Draco said aloud triumphantly.

"What means?" Snape queried. Draco told him about his idea. "I must say Draco, I am impressed. You seemed to have picked up some things in practical thinking, something you used to dreadfully lack."

Draco blushed at the comment. He had been a very stupid boy when he went to Hogwarts but now he had learned from those mistakes. But that didn't mean he wasn't still embarrassed when he looked back on it.

"Well thanks Professor for the help. I'll try and get the ingredients, and then I'll come back." Draco rose to leave.

"No you will not," Snape contradicted.

"Excuse me?"

"It will only be a matter of time before Hogwarts discovers your presence. No one will be happy about that. Plus I will be found. There is a reason why my maker hid me in that cauldron. You will take me, the cauldron, and its contents back to Malfoy Manor. We can work in your father's lab there," the portrait explained.

Draco sighed but realized the portrait had a point. But he didn't relish the thought of smuggling the cauldron and portrait through the Headmistress' Floo System either. Oh well, he'll just have to suck it up and grow a pair. "Fine. Let me get the ingredients then and I'll come back for you," he amended, leaving the classroom. He headed to Slughorn's office which was in the dungeons as well.

He made sure he had cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself before he quietly opened the door. Slughorn was the type that went to bed early and slept soundly so he shouldn't have any trouble. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

The office was not the same as the one Snape had when he was Potions Master. It lay nearer to the staircases and was brightly lit, even when vacant. He closed the door behind him and crept forward, making sure to walk on the balls of his feet, like his godfather had taught him. That way his weight was on his haunches and his feet barely made a sound on the echoing stone floor.

He approached the locked cabinet that Slughorn hid in plain sight. It was quite revolting really that even though everyone knew that Slughorn worked with the market and even knew where his stash was nobody had stopped him. The reason he was always pardoned had something to do with him being an Order member and hero of the war. Draco snorted at that thought. Slughorn was a worse coward than even himself and never once did the man fire an offensive spell during the Final Battle. The old man had been cowering in the dungeons with the rest of the Slytherins and never even tried to stop them when they broke out. Hero Draco's ass.

He was able to open the padlock easily and he quickly pulled out the vials needed. He poured a little of each content into his own vials and placed Slughorn's vials back. Wrapping the vials in cloth to make sure they didn't clink he placed them in his pockets (which he enlarged) and walked quickly back to what he dubbed Snape's dungeon.

"Got it," He said triumphantly when he got back.

The portrait inclined his head, "Very good. Now let's go, before someone realizes you are here."

Draco packed everything up and, despite Snape's protests shrunk everything to the size of marbles. He put it all back in his pockets and stealthily made his way to the Headmistress' office. He had just reached the gargoyle when he heard:

"Oi! What are you doing here?"

Draco whipped around. He saw no one. _Just getting paranoid. Come on Draco, don't lose it just yet. You still have to get past McGonagall._ He said the password and waited for the gargoyle to move when he heard the voice again.

"I said; what are you doing here? It's rude not to answer your own mind ya know."

Again Draco whipped around, desperate to find the source. It was just him. Him and the portrait. And the portrait didn't sound like that.

"First sign of madness is hearing things, or is it talking to inanimate objects? Tee hee, it doesn't matter, you're crazy anyway!"

The gargoyle! That's where it was coming from! Strange, he never knew it talked. Or taunted. "What is this?" Draco asked, outraged.

"You are mad! Madder than the hatter! Ooh! Draco is madder than the hatter! Hee hee! Why else can you hear me?" The gargoyle said, but its lips didn't move an inch.

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Draco shouted, frustrated at himself and the gargoyle. Just what the hell was going on? One minute he was perfectly sane, the next inanimate objects were taunting him! The gargoyle seemed to listen and it didn't say anything else as Draco stomped up the steps and back into the Headmistress' office.

"Find what you need, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked from her desk, her face bent over some paperwork.

"No professor, I did not," Draco lied, allowing his frustrations to add conviction to his voice. McGonagall gave him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy. I truly am. I was hoping that he did make one. To be quite honest, I've missed his sneering. Like I miss Dumbledore and everyone else. But they can't come back, can they? Ah, well, you're not here to listen to my ramblings. Good night Draco." He gave a curt nod to the woman after she finished speaking and entered the fireplace, disappearing in a whoosh of green flame.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"_If there was a demon would you hold her?_

_And be a nurse by her side?_

_I'll take a corset of your words_

_Tie them up high and bind them."_

_-Emily Jane White "The Demon"_

Draco arrived back at the Manor and emptied his pockets. He returned everything to its original size, causing the portrait to hack and wheeze.

"Terrors that did to my oils, Draco. Don't attempt that again," Snape managed to gasp out between coughs.

"Sorry sir. It was the only thing that I could think of." Draco went on to tell him what had transpired outside of the Headmistress' Office.

"That isn't good Draco. Either you are succumbing to a long withstanding mental disease as well or you are suffering over exhaustion. I assume, and hope, that it is the latter. Get a good night's rest. In the morning, we shall begin," Snape decided after hearing his story. Draco nodded and wearily climbed the upstairs to his bed, where he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow. He didn't have another episode again.

00000

Three months later and they finally figured it out. The ingredients were put in the most dangerous order possible, and several times Draco did and nearly did blow up his father's lab. Now he stoppered the clear odorless liquid into a set of vials and prepared to Apparate back to the old Victorian mansion.

"I think its ready professor," Draco smiled as he put the case of vials in a satchel.

"Indeed. I must say, you fared better than I thought you would have. Perhaps my influence has rubbed off on you," Snape agreed.

He laughed, "Perhaps, Professor. Well I better be off. Hopefully Hermione hasn't hurt herself too much." He took on a grave expression as he Apparated to the gates of Hermione's hideout.

He arrived and looked up the hill. The mansion was in even worse condition than before. The gate was hanging lazily by one hinge, weeds covered the path. Windows were shattered, some boarded up. Ravens and pigeons flew in and out of holes in the rotting wood walls and roof. Half the porch roof no longer was held aloft. The door was open, revealing a dark interior.

He sighed and began his trek up the hill. Clouds had gathered from the east and were threatening to release its contents on Draco as he hiked but he made no move to hurry. The rain didn't bother him anymore.

It had just started to drizzle when he made it inside. He missed the holes in the floor and avoiding making new ones by walking with his weight on his haunches. The place was covered with dust and seemed lifeless.

"Hello? Granger? You there? It's me Draco. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," Draco called out. But there was no sign of reply. He went deeper into the house, calling out her name and looking around him warily. The last thing he wanted was to get spooked and drop his precious package. Or find her corpse.

After thirty minutes of searching the most noise he heard came from a scurrying mouse. But suddenly the mouse (who had long since accepted Draco's presence) gave a small squeak and scurried away. Draco looked at the retreating mouse with curiosity before turning to see what scared the mouse so much. Standing at the top of the stairs was her.

She looked horrible. Her face was scratched up and he could see that she had attempted to remove her stitches covering her eyes. He could see the lice crawling through her hair and her skin hung loosely off of her bony frame. She reeked as did her clothes, which were way too big on her and were falling apart at the seams.

"I told you not to come back here," she half rasped, half growled. Her voice sounded weary, as if she had been shouting or crying a lot.

"And I told you that I was anyway, Granger," Draco contradicted. He weighed his options and decided that an assertive, almost aggressive tact was needed. Too passive and she would think that he was pitying her. Which he most definitely wasn't. Why? Because Draco never pitied anyone. Or at least, that's what he told himself every night.

"Go away," she demanded, her voice still rasping. She started to sway and Draco had to sprint up the steps and catch her before she tumbled down.

"Get off me!" she shrieked, what was left of her voice fading. She thrashed about weakly and managed to place a dirty bite on his arm. It drew blood. Draco knew that he would have to treat it soon, or risk getting sick. But he held her in a bear hug until she stopped. He acted fast, slipping his hand into his bag and grabbing a vial.

"Bottoms up," he muttered and poured the contents down her throat. She fought back viciously, like a wild animal, and tried her best not to swallow any. But some managed to go down anyway. Soon she quit thrashing and her head lolled to one side. She seemed to have been put under by the potion. He had no idea whether or not that was supposed to be a side effect and it kinda scared him. What if he had made the potion wrong? The ingredients were all very poisonous if not brewed correctly. What if the portrait had remembered wrong? Only one way to find out.

He picked up her limp body and repressed a shudder as he saw the bugs that crawled over her. It was enough to make him sick when coupled with the smell. He carried her out of the doomed house, past the gates, and Apparated away to his manor.

They arrived and he immediately went to his mother's bathroom and turned on her bathtub. He didn't want to have to wash her but if she doesn't wake up soon or refuses to do it herself he would. He left the water running and went to the parlor, where he had hung Snape's portrait and had set Hermione. She lay on a Victorian style sofa, her breathing soft and shallow. She seemed to have no intention of waking soon.

"Are you sure that's Miss Granger?" Snape asked dubiously. He had a hard time believing that his Know-it-all student fell so far from her lavish Muggleborn lifestyle.

"Quite positive Professor. Are you sure that she is supposed to react to the potion this way?"

"No, I'm not. But we will find out soon enough if it worked, now won't we?" Snape sneered.

"I guess so. I'm going to get me a cup of tea and check on the bath," Draco sighed. He left the room and did what he said he would. As he was coming back from the kitchen he heard a primal screech.

"Uh-oh," Draco muttered, dropping his tea cup and taking off through the manor to the parlor. It took him several minutes as the kitchens were on the second floor near the back of the house and the parlor was on the first floor near the front of the house. When he entered the room he stopped short.

The room was in tatters. Apparently Granger had woken up angry. What sent chills down his spine however was Snape's portrait. Or what remained of it. It seemed to have been slashed with something sharp, like a knife. It almost reminded him of the time back in 2nd year when the Fat Lady's door portrait had been slashed by Peter Pettigrew. Except this time Snape had nowhere to run. His godfather was gone for good.

"I told you not to come for me," a voice hissed. Draco whipped around to see Granger, a shard of glass in her hand. She must have taken it before he was able to sedate her. But why wasn't the potion working? Then he remembered a conversation he had with Snape during the finishing touches of the Potion.

"_Are you sure that this is going to work?" He had asked as he finished stirring the cauldron._

"_No. Either three things will happen. One, the potion will work fine. Two, the potion will work too well and kill her. Three, it will do the opposite and increase her connection to her mental disease," Snape admitted._

"_So there's only a one in three chance this will work."_

_The portrait had shrugged. "Better than no chance at all."_

Now he realized that the third thing had happened. It had pushed Granger even more over the edge and into a murderous rampage. She wanted to kill him.

"You don't want this Granger. What would Harry and Ron think?" Draco reasoned, backing up and raising his hands in surrender. His wand was foolishly in his room. There was no way he could get it in time unless he figured out how to get past her.

Hermione laughed a dry, humorless, laugh, "They are dead Draco, dear. Or did you forget?"

"They aren't dead, Granger. Harry and Ron are both Aurors working for the Ministry."

"Lies! They killed them! The Ministry killed them all! Just like I knew they would!" Hermione hissed. Despite her being blind she was tracking him excellently and was pacing him like a cougar, waiting for the kill.

"Who told you that?"

"Alec, Alec and the others," Hermione admitted. She seemed to be losing her patience.

"Alec lies!" Draco retorted.

"No I don't," a male voice whispered in his ear. "Kill him. There must be no witnesses. You can use his home and vaults as your own. You can rule the Wizarding world, shaping it to the flawless paradise it should be."

Hermione cocked her head as she listened. When the whisper stopped she grinned and began closing in on her defenseless kill.

**AN: I hated doing this but the little plot bunny wouldn't stop nagging me. The ending is kinda like the Alfred Hitchcock movies, use your imagination. Whether Draco and Hermione live or die is up to you as the reader. I hated to kill the portrait, but I had to show that Hermione had really lost it. Alec is also a character that can be read differently. You choose whether or not he is just a part of their damaged minds or something more supernatural and sinister. I decided to make Snape embrace his Slytherin side as I couldn't make a compassionate one fit in such a dark, twisted story. Don't forget to give me your feedback but no flames!**

**P.S. Now that this story is done I should be catching up on others. If only it weren't for school and work….**


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